That damn phone keeps ending up in Bill’s hand, the screen still unlocks straight to the screen showing his handler’s contact information. Time and time again, he’s hovering over the call button. And just as all the times before, he can’t get himself to do it. So, once again, he locks the phone and puts it in his pocket.

Bill’s sitting on a freezing cold metal bench located inside a small, painted box. Some genius decided to give this outdoor train platform a designated smoking area, and that the best way to achieve that would be painting a few lines on the floor. The smoke won’t disrespect the borders so long as the smoker stays within the lines, surely.

Bill fishes for the lighter his pocket to light up another cigarette. The gun tucked in the back of pants pushes its cold iron against his skin as he leans over to find the lighter. Jay kept a pistol in the glove compartment of his car—the getaway car Bill is now driving, while Jay and Ash are on that damn train to set up a damn bomb.

Cigarette in one hand, he takes out the phone again. Calling it in is the only sensible option. Bill knows what. It’s his job, his whole reason for being here. Call it in, get his people involved. The bomb is evidence, Ash and Jay can be flipped. What else can he do, besides waiting at this station for the train to arrive, collect them both, and follow through with the plan to blow it all up.

What fucking plan is this, anyway?

A cold wind howls through the station, which is completely empty, save Bill in his little, sad smoker’s box. He shrinks into himself to stay warm against this fierce reminder of the season. That damn train can’t get here soon enough.

Somewhere between his shivering, his need to keep drawing in smoke despite his cold fingers, and the weight of that phone in his hand, he must have missed the sound of heeled boots coming up next to him.

“I’ve been trying to call you, Billy, but it appears your phone is turned off right now.” Her voice is calm, her breath forming in a gentle cloud before her made-up lips.

Bill looks up and sees the Boss standing next to one of her thugs (different from last time; she likes to cycle them around). Her eyes move right past his, down to the phone in his shaking hand. On its screen, a fake name assigned a very real number she should never be allowed to know about.

Nervously, he waves the phone around to distract from what’s on the screen. “Yeah, damn thing. No reception out here.” Terrible lie, but it’s all he has. With that, he gets up, doing his best attempt at sleight of hand to make the phone slide into his coat pocket. The Boss has her own phone in her gloved hand. She wears a nice, expensive coat with fur collar, an expensive scarf wrapped around her neck. Off her shoulder hangs a bag that surely cost more money than he earned in a month back at the academy. She’s all dressed up as a show of her wealth and influence. Her power.

Her thug is a large man, dressed in all black. Fine shoes, a suit under a thick coat. Nothing as fancy as the Boss, of course, but still a step above street gangster. His eyes are fixed on Bill with what he can only parse as murderous intent. Bill stretches his back to make sure that gun is still tucked away in his waistband. Once again, with a wave of her hand, the Boss dismisses her thug, who turns instantly and walks away.

Just Bill and the Boss facing each other on a snowy, wind-swept train platform.

The Boss checks her phone, before putting it in the bag hanging off her shoulder. “I didn’t think you would go through with this, Billy. Bombing a train is quite the commitment you and your friends are showing, don’t you think?”

The sweat forming on his forehead freezes instantly. Is that a trick question?

She gestures to the cold bench inside the smoker’s box. “Sit, Billy. I’ll wait with you for the train to arrive.”

What choice does he have? Bill sits back down. “You could have told me what this job was about before I got out here.”

She does not sit down. “Would you have had any reservations, Billy? Pushed back against the assignment?”

He clears his throat. The gun in his back begins to weigh heavier by the moment. “No. I don’t know. It’s just, when Jay presented me with a bomb in the trunk of the car we were just driving, it caught me off guard, I guess.”

“I can see that,” she says with not an ounce of genuine empathy. “To be honest, I didn’t think you would go through with it, either.”

In Bill’s mind, this statement, said all matter-of-fact, can only mean one thing. Shit. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks in response in a feeble effort to deflect.

As if on queue, the wind stops blowing for a beat. Still standing next to Bill, the Boss says, “Let’s dispense with the pretense, William.” Somehow, her using Bill’s full first name sends chills down his spine. Like a disappointed parent scolding their misbehaving son. “I know exactly who you are and why you are here. Building up an organization like I have, from nothing, is only possible through the utmost of care and precision. I know everything there is to know about every aspect, including personnel. The moment Jason brought you into the fold, it was only a matter of time before found out about your true intentions.”

There it is, then. Bill’s worst fear confirmed. His cover blown, his position exposed. Compromised doesn’t even begin to describe just how deep in this shit he is now.

He makes a move to get up, but she stops him. “Don’t.”

He complies, for now. “Alright. Now what?” It occurs to him that, heavy as the implications may be, she hasn’t actually called him out for being a cop. Is there a way to spin any of this? Doubtful. If only he would have called in the bomb, this train station would be overrun with cops right about now. Instead, it remains empty and cold and bleak.

“Now, we wait for the train. And once your friend and your ex girlfriend step off it, you will tell them the truth.” Her eyes are cold daggers stabbing into his.

“This has nothing to do with them.” Bill sounds desperate—a tone in which the Boss seems to find a hint of glee for herself.

She says, “On the contrary. Both of them have great potential for a future by my side. But I need to break them of some old habits, like an old dog. Jason is too trusting of outsiders, like yourself. And Ashley’s heart is still just that of a young girl stuck in the past. We have an opportunity here, you and I. Disillusion both of them of those childish sentiments. All thanks to your betrayal.”

Bill rights himself, assessing the exact position of his hidden gun. There’s something else going on here, and he’s curious to find out what it is before grabbing for it. “What about the bomb then? Why go through all of this trouble if you already know the truth?”

She shrugs. “One can never really know for sure. I figured the moment you saw the device, your morals would make you slip up, make a mistake. Like I said, I’m impressed you’d let them board the train with it in the first place. But not to worry, Billy, the bomb was never meant to detonate.”

He perks up. “It’s not real?”

“It’s real, I assure you. I assume you must have had some basic training on identifying such devices, so I had to make sure you won’t catch on too early. But the arming mechanism is bypassed. Unless Jason became an expert demolitionist overnight, all he’ll know to do is to enter a series of numbers to arm it.”

All this deception just to force his hand, yet the bomb is real? Maybe Bill could have been able to notice if it was fake. Still, this is a very dangerous game she’s playing. In the distance, a loud whistle signals the arrival of the train.

Bill asks, “So why accuse me now?”

The train rushes into the station. “I need to ensure that none of you get away, and that the device is secured. Loose ends, I’m sure you understand. Like I said, I didn’t think it would have gone this far.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Maybe it’s the repetitiveness of her big villain speech, maybe it’s just his anger and fear at what’s next, but Bill just about had enough.

The train comes to a full stop, and its doors open on every section. Yet, no one steps out. Both of them wait with bated breath for Ash and Jay to appear, but the station remains empty. The Boss turns away for a brief moment of confusion. Bill doesn’t hesitate.

He points the gun right at her. “Alright. You’re under arrest.”

Without turning back, she dismisses him with ease. “Don’t be ridiculous, Billy.” It’s only when she finally turns back around and sees the pistol pointed at her, does she take the situation seriously. “I have half a dozen men standing by just outside of the station. Do you really think this is wise?”

“I honestly don’t give a shit, anymore.” She moves in on her, grabs her arm and twists it behind her back. “I’d read you your rights, but given how many local law enforcement personnel are in your pockets, I’m sure you know all about it.” She struggles some, but remains strangely calm in his grip. Somehow, her lack of strong reaction terrifies him. Even now, she seems in control, somehow.

Still, he keeps her in his lock. Of course, he has no handcuffs on him, so he must be vigilant to keep her restraint as best as he can. That means he must jam the gun under his arresting arm to grab for his phone. Time to call this in, end this.

Part of him wants to turn around, wants to see if Ash and Jay made it off the train yet, if they’re just standing right behind him, shocked, confused, at what he’s doing to their Boss.

As he goes for his pocket with the phone, he notices her phone sitting in her open bag. That’s it, that’s the golden ticket. He observed her doing all of her day to day business on it. And now it’s within reach. Bill reaches for it and pulls it out of the bag.

“Don’t you need a warrant for this, officer?” Her voice is calm.

He wants her to shut up, but he can’t get himself to be disrespectful like that. Even now, her influence and draw is difficult to overcome. Bill can’t wait for all of this to be over.

Maybe going for her phone was the right thing to do, but that means he didn’t call this in, yet. And that moment of hesitation, of distraction, was enough for her thugs to come back. The train whistle must have been the signal. The moment they see what’s happening, they draw their own guns and point them at Bill. The only reason they aren’t firing, yet, is the fact that the Boss is between them and Bill. They do move in slowly, however, guns up, determination in their faces.

“You can give up now, Billy. There is nowhere for you to run.” She never feels out of control, does she?

But she’s wrong. Just behind them is a train door. Just at this moment, a whistle sounds to let passengers know that it’s time to board now. Bill walks backwards, slowly, dragging the Boss with him. Her heeled boots struggle to keep up with this pace.

“What are you doing, Billy? You won’t get out of this alive.” There, crack in her voice, Finally, a slip of her perfect mask.

But she’s right. At this pace, the door will close behind them, leaving him stranded here with a bunch of thugs and their guns, and the only thing keeping alive is this crime boss in his grip.

The thugs are close now. Despite his best attempts at making sure that they can see the gun in his hand pointing at their Boss, they are determined to overwhelm in a few seconds.

“It’s over,” he says, bluffing, “this platform will be swarming with cops any moment now. And those city badges aren’t in your pocket.”

Neither her, nor her thugs, seem to buy it. Of course not. If he actually called it in, he wouldn’t have made such a desperate play. Another mistake in a long line of mistakes leading up to this point.

He has to do something. Now!

Then, just as the doors of the train are about to close, Bill makes his final, desperate move. He pushes the Boss into her thugs, using the force to fall back and inside the train, just as the doors slide shut before him. The thugs struggle to keep their own footing, while also trying to catch their Boss. They raise their guns again, but it’s too late.

Moments later, the train has left the station.

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